Until Autumn - Sheridan Anne Page 0,28
office for two hours now, and with every passing second, the room seems to get smaller. The only relief I had was when UberEats showed up outside the hospital and I ran downstairs to get the Chinese takeout. Sitting across from this man seemed so much easier when my veins were swimming with liquid courage.
“You’re staring at me,” he comments, his lips twisting into an amused smirk as he continues looking down at the array of papers spread across his desk.
My eyes shoot back down to the folder as I sit on the overly comfortable couch at the opposite end of his office. “No, I wasn’t,” I grumble, knowing damn well that he won’t believe me for even one second. “You’re seeing things.”
“I didn’t see anything,” he tells me, his smirk somehow getting impossibly bigger. “I can sense it.” His eyes shoot up from his papers and seem to stare directly through to my soul. “I can always sense it when it comes to you.”
My cheeks instantly flame as the need to throw myself into his arms burns through me. What is wrong with me? I’m crushing on this guy so hard and it’s only going to get me in trouble. I have to keep this professional. “What can I say?” I grumble, trying to shrug off my wild emotions with sarcasm. “It’s just a hazard of being me. When you’re this incredible, you’ll understand. People just seem to gravitate toward me, and unfortunately, Dr. Mayson, you’re falling into the same trap.”
His eyes sparkle with laughter, but he keeps a straight face. “I see,” he murmurs thoughtfully. “Or maybe I’m the incredible one, and judging by the way you couldn’t stop watching me during that cesarean, it seems that you’re the one who’s falling into a trap.”
I shake my head. “Not possible,” I tell him. “I’m far too advanced in this world to be capable of falling into traps. I was simply admiring your skills just as everyone else in the room was doing. After all, this is a learning hospital, and you’re the guy I’m supposed to be learning from. It only makes sense for me to be watching you.”
Dr. Mayson leans back in his desk chair, never once taking his eyes off me as the tension seems to grow inside the room. I should look away and break this connection between us, but I can’t. I can’t even describe it, to look away would feel like amputating a piece of myself, but why? I’ve known the guy for two days. In fact, I don’t even know him. Two days of not-so-discreetly watching a man from across a room is not knowing someone. I don’t have the right to feel as though he’s a part of me, at least, not yet.
He scoops up the forgotten Chinese takeout container from his desk and curls his skilled fingers around the chopsticks. “Tell me about yourself,” he says, taking me off guard.
I straighten on the couch. “Oh, umm … okay,” I say, unsure why the words seem to be getting stuck in my throat. “There’s really not much to say. For as long as I can remember, I’ve wanted to be a midwife, and now it’s finally happening. That’s all there is to me.”
He shakes his head. “No, that’s just the bullshit exterior that you’re hiding behind. Tell me something real.”
I blink, my heart beginning to race. He’s right, that’s my go-to answer whenever someone asks me about myself. I tell them all about how amazing it would be to deliver babies all day long. I tell them about my course and how many years of experience it takes for a midwife to finally reach her goals. No one ever asks to go deeper and for the first time in my life, I don’t know what to say.
“I, uhh … I’m really not that exciting,” I finally admit. “I’m an only child and moved away the second I could. I’m originally from Kentucky, and the second I could start applying for jobs, I searched for ones as far from home as possible, which is how I ended up in Nashville.”
“Why’s that?” he questions, still refusing to take his eyes off mine.
“My parents couldn’t get on board with the fact that I didn’t want to be some fancy doctor or lawyer, and they’ve never let me live it down. It was just easier to separate myself from that.”
“So, you did it all on your own?”
I shrug a shoulder. “Well, not really. I lived